


The Fic What I Wrote

by junkster



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-05
Updated: 2012-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-28 23:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junkster/pseuds/junkster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel and Bryan get to know each other as Morecambe and Wise, respectively, and as each other, when they're given the leading roles in the BBC drama 'Eric and Ernie'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fic What I Wrote

Bryan is primarily an actor, Daniel is primarily a comedian, whose Edinburgh Festival show that year was about his stint as a Born Again Christian, and how he lost his faith.

 _‘I’d never done any comedy. But the whole thing rests on the chemistry between the two of them and I got paired up with Daniel (at audition), and I remember thinking: “If I don’t get this then it will be madness if he doesn’t.” He **was** Eric, it was uncanny. We had such a laugh together, just mucking around." - Bryan._

 

The thing about Daniel is, he never stops. Once he’s in that Eric mode, he tends not to come back out until someone calls it a wrap at the end of the day, which means there’s no talking sense to him until late into the night.

Not that Bryan blames him. He can’t even imagine how difficult it must be to keep up that quick-witted sharpness; to try and be a man who is so universally loved and to please all of those people at the same time.

They had chemistry from the moment they were paired up at the audition. Daniel seemed to have ‘ERIC’ stamped across his forehead, so obvious a choice was he. It took Bryan a little while to ratchet up to the same speed of banter with him, but Daniel helped him out throughout, taking him under his wing and never letting him fall; never letting him look like a fool.

It was a strange feeling, considering Daniel was the youngest, but compared to Bryan he had years and years of experience of theatre and comedy. Bryan had actually seen him at the Edinburgh Festival the year before, and he placed him instantly when he saw that same manic energy that had caught his eye from the stage back then.

There are five years between them. Bryan’s thirty-two, and he marvels sometimes at Daniel’s capacity for work and play. It’s hard to believe that someone managed to brainwash him into falling head-first into born-again Christianity when he was nineteen, considering what a wicked streak he seems to have in him. It makes Bryan angry to imagine it - some fanatic putting their own ideas into Daniel’s young head - but it’s testament to Daniel’s independence that he eventually cottoned on and realised it clashed with the way he wanted to live.

 

\+ + + + +

 

The call up was an incredible, amazing, huge surprise. There had been so many other potentials, Bryan had really just considered the audition as good practice, so sure was he that he had to be somewhere near the bottom of the pile. On the other hand, he’d thought ever since that it would be madness if Daniel didn’t get the part of Eric. Daniel was Eric.

The man himself telephoned him later that morning, in a short and sweet conversation that formed the base of their friendship to come.

“Hello?” Bryan had answered, perching on the edge of his kitchen table as he watched the kettle boil.

“Ernie!” a familiar voice had boomed back at him, and the grin that had been never far away all day broke free once more.

“Eric,” he answered, the excitement constricting his heart.

“We did it, pal.”

“I knew you would.”

“We, idiot, _we_. I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else. You’re my Ernie.”

“And you’re my Eric.”

They’d both paused at that point, letting it sink in for a moment. Bryan had started making his cup of tea when Daniel spoke again.

“Celebratory drinks, sometime?”

“Any time, mate.”

“Tonight?”

Bryan had smiled to himself at the enthusiasm. “Tonight’s fine. You pick the place, then let me know. Text me, or something.”

“Alright. See you later then.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you later. Congratulations, Dan.”

“‘You too. Bye, Bry.”

 

\+ + + + +

 

They’ve been rehearsing for almost a month when the director has the awful idea that they should do a comedy club as Ernie and Eric, trying out their partnership with the old material in front of a real audience. Bryan is painfully aware that it’s probably for his benefit; after all, Daniel is a comedian already. He’s inured to the excruciating feeling that is bombing onstage.

Despite attempts to curtail the activity, they’re packed off to somewhere up near Manchester, whereupon, to top it all off, some bright spark on the production team decides that they should spend a couple of nights sharing a bed, so that they can live in the midst of an Eric and Ernie sketch for real. Someone books them into a hotel together and tells them to ignore the enquiring, curious looks off the lady behind the front desk as she hands them the single key.

Their room is small and suitably old-fashioned, with a high ceiling and a rattly old sash window. The floorboards creak as they set down their bags.

“This is method acting at its finest, eh?” Daniel remarks as they stand at the foot of the double bed and look resignedly at the floral duvet cover. “I hope I don’t snore, for your sake.”

Bryan glances at him with a quick smile. “How do you know _I_ don’t?”

“I just do,” Daniel waves a hand vaguely in his direction. “You’re too dainty for that.”

“Never been called _that_ before,” Bryan muses as he sits down on the edge of the mattress and presses a hand down, listening to the groan of old springs. “When I danced it tended to be ‘too big’ and ‘too heavy’ and ‘you’re eating too much’.”

He says it in a jovial tone, but Daniel’s expression remains critical as he points out: “You look like you’ve barely eaten five hot dinners in your entire _life_.”

“It was awful, when I think back to it,” Bryan admits, setting his bag down on the floor. “No chocolate, no junk food, no coffee. No alcohol, even.”

From where he’s investigating the small en-suite, Daniel’s head whips around, eyes wide. “No alcohol? No _beer_?”

“Especially no beer. But don’t worry,” Bryan flops down onto his back and squints up at the lumpy white ceiling. “I’m fully back off the wagon, now.”

“Yeah,” Daniel’s voice echoes back at him, “I noticed that the first time we went out for drinks, mate. You can certainly put it away, for a little feller.”

 

\+ + + + +

 

They go whole hog that night and Daniel takes Eric’s rightful place to the right of Bryan, even though he prefers usually to be nearer the door. They sit up, side by side, and Bryan reads a book rather than a newspaper, and Daniel’s got a laptop which just totally throws the whole image, but it’s all surprisingly relaxed. Eventually, Bryan puts his book down and glances across at Daniel’s computer, checking out the pictures on screen.

“Is that the club?” he asks, leaning over a little as Daniel nods.

“Yeah. Looks like we’ll be on in front of a hundred or so people. Tiny, really.”

Bryan makes a non-committal sound and slides back to his own place, watching as Daniel closes the laptop’s lid with a snap and sets it down on the floor.

“Better get some sleep,” Daniel sighs as he sits back up, reaching for his phone and making sure the alarm’s set. “You ready?”

Nodding silently, Bryan watches Daniel’s hand go for the bedside lamp, then they’re plunged into darkness.

 

\+ + + + +

 

The audience are loud amongst the sounds of clinking beer bottles and raucous laughter, and the guy who’s out on stage before them is having trouble with one particular heckler.

Bryan’s terrified, more so with each passing minute, and Daniel keeps looking at him in concern until finally he reaches out and holds Bryan’s head in his hands, forcing him to make eye contact.

“It’s alright,” he stresses, keeping his voice quiet so as not to alert anyone else to the situation. “It’ll be good. I won’t let anything go wrong, okay? We’ll storm it.”

Bryan closes his eyes for a few seconds, drawing in a deep breath to stem the terrible nausea and simply letting the warmth of Daniel’s big hands ground him. When he feels settled enough to see the world again, he looks up into Daniel’s blue eyes, worried and protective, and clenches his fists by his sides. There’s no way he’s letting Daniel down. No way in hell.

He nods firmly, and Daniel keeps that searching gaze on him for a moment longer before giving a nod of his own and a small smile, one of his hands patting Bryan’s cheek gently.

 

\+ + + + +

 

They do storm it, in the end. It’s not surprising, really, when the material is so good, and so tried and tested already. The whole exercise fills Bryan with renewed confidence, the sheer joy of performing together making him want to go straight back out and do it again. As they walk back to the hotel together after a few drinks at the bar, they stop into an off-licence and come out with a bottle of whiskey, laughing at the surprised look the man behind the till had given them as he’d checked out their tuxedos.

Bryan charms the woman behind the hotel’s front desk as Daniel slips by with the whiskey hidden behind his back, and he waits and listens patiently as she tells him her life story.

“Dare I ask where the hell you got to?” Daniel asks in amazement when he finally reappears. Already having dropped his jacket and bowtie on the bed, he’s sitting down and busily trying to untie his shoe laces.

“Nothing scandalous,” Bryan replies with a grin, locking the door behind him. “She was just telling me the tale. Have we got any glasses?”

“No, ‘fraid not.”

“Ah well. Look, I’m sorry about earlier, by the way,” Bryan says contritely, loosening the knot in his tie. “I’m used to going on stage, but not with so much uncertainty about things. I don’t know how you do it.”

Daniel smiles as he tugs his left shoe off and tosses it to the side. “You just have to grow a thick skin, really. Just have to reason with yourself that you’ll probably never see any of the audience again, so fuck what they think about you.”

“I saw you at Edinburgh last year.”

“Yeah?” Daniel lifts his head, fingers stilling mid-unlace with uncertainty. “Good or bad?”

Bryan slides his tie out from under his collar and smiles at him reassuringly. “Very, very good. You stayed with me, afterwards. I recommended you to people!”

Daniel goes back to his shoe, beaming with an endearing hint of shyness at the compliment. “Thanks, mate. You want first shower?”

“Go for it,” Bryan says, waving a hand in that direction and focussing on getting the top off the whiskey bottle instead.

 

\+ + + + +

 

By the time they’ve both showered and changed into less restrictive clothing, the bottle’s been passed back and forth a few times and the adrenaline buzz of the performance is still coursing through both of them.

Bryan squeezes past Daniel in the tiny bathroom to retrieve his watch, which he’d set down on the windowsill before his shower, and turns to watch his partner frown at his own reflection.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, as he straps his watch back on. “You alright?”

Daniel runs a hand through his hair and tries to get it to lie flat. “I still find it weird, when I catch sight of myself and I’ve got black hair, that’s all.”

“It suits you,” Bryan says easily, following him back into the bedroom. The truth of the matter is, Daniel always tended to be a fairly scruffy character before the make-up crew started grooming him to 1950’s perfection, dying his brown hair to pitch black. Every night when he washes the bryl cream out, it automatically returns to unkempt status, and they have to tame it again in the morning before filming.

What never changes about him, on the other hand, is his height. The difference between them is quite startling, and one of the reasons why Bryan prefers to get him to sit down before they have a conversation. Saves his neck, for one thing.

As Daniel checks his phone for messages, Bryan grabs the room’s two rickety wicker chairs and sets them down at the foot of the bed, facing each other. Sitting down with his back to the door, he picks up the whiskey and takes a slug, knocking it back with barely a wince at the unsubtle burn.

“Come on, Danny boy,” he says, motioning to the other chair. “Come and celebrate.”

“What’re we celebrating?” Daniel murmurs absently as he hurriedly types in a text. “Our last night in this hotel?”

“That, and getting through the comedy club debacle, and for generally being good partners.”

Daniel looks up with a smile at that, tossing his phone onto the bed and moving to sit down opposite Bryan. “We are, aren’t we?”

“Thanks to Eric and Ernie.”

“Here’s to them, then, for putting us together,” Daniel says, taking a swig of whiskey before holding up the bottle in toast and handing it over.

“And for giving us a job,” Bryan adds with a grin, following suit.

They’re both well aware that they’ve got the next day off, probably as a reward for the club ordeal, and the alcohol flows accordingly. After two pints each at the bar and now the cheap whiskey, they’re both well and truly buzzing, which becomes quite clear when Daniel loses all sense of tact.

“You’re very small, aren’t you?” he comments, without a hint of remorse. “Did you ever think of becoming a jockey?”

Bryan only just manages not to spray him with whiskey as he laughs, the mixture of mischief and actual curiosity in Daniel’s eyes too amusing to be in any way offensive.

“I was a _ballet dancer_ , isn’t that good enough for you?”

Daniel grins and pulls his legs up to cross them, leaning forwards to rest his arms on his knees. “There are times, when we’re filming, that your Ernie looks at my Eric with this...look.”

“What look?” Bryan asks quietly, brow creasing in uncertainty.

Daniel points at him. “Quite a lot like that, actually. There’s this...” he wrinkles his nose as he tries to come up with the right word, “...tenderness.”

Bryan shrugs. “Ernie _loves_ Eric. He doesn’t really have anyone else. Eric is his world, at that point, isn’t he?.”

“And vice versa. But it’s not Ernie I’m talking about. I mean, it is, but...it’s _you_. It’s you, looking at _me_.”

Bryan waits for more, then holds his hands up in surrender, shaking his head when nothing follows. “I don’t understand. What’re we talking about?”

“It was the first time you shot that look at me that I really realised how protective I feel, as Eric. You’re smaller than me and I feel like you should be delicate, but...you’re not. You’re tough as old boots.”

“You want me to be delicate?” Bryan asks, confusion still clear on his face.

“No, no, I just...I’m just trying to say that the script makes my Eric want to look after Ernie. Keep an eye on him. Sometimes I find it hard to separate you from that, and it’s like I feel that protectiveness all the time at the moment.”

Bryan smiles in bemusement, still confused but fondly touched at the same time. “That’s nice of you, mate. And you did look after me, tonight, when I was freaking out backstage. But I’m not usually that much of a wreck.”

“No, I know. Solid as a rock, you are, son. In more ways than one.”

“Ballet’s hard,” Bryan says with a vaguely uncomfortable shrug. “You have to be stupidly flexible and strong enough to lift your partner into the air, several times over. You don’t eat much, but you train constantly. I’ve lost a lot of the muscle I had back then, but it sort of gives you this solid core.”

He taps a finger against his stomach and Daniel looks at him in fascination.

“Have you got a six pack?”

“No, not any more.”

“Can I see?” Daniel asks, and he looks at him with a vaguely unsure expression that Bryan doesn’t expect to see.

Standing up slowly, with only a faint wobble, he grabs the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it up to the bottom of his breastbone, amused by the way Daniel’s eyes follow its progress upwards.

“You kind of still have, haven’t you?” Daniel muses, cataloguing every inch of Bryan’s skin. “Liar.”

Bryan looks down at him with affection. “Maybe a two pack, at most.”

Daniel’s hand reaches out with a mind of its own, then lingers, hovering in the air as he realises what he’s doing and glances up at Bryan. “Can I?”

Bryan simply nods in surprise and watches as Daniel’s hand moves closer. He starts at the left side of Bryan’s ribcage, trailing his long index finger slowly under the ridge of bone, over the diaphragm and across to the other side, then his other three fingers join in and he strokes them diagonally down across the planes of muscle until he reaches Bryan’s right hipbone.

“This is weird,” he says quietly, in such a normal, thoughtful tone that a few seconds later Bryan is laughing again, and Daniel is pressing his hand flat against his belly to feel the hitch under warm skin. “What?” he asks, smiling at the amusement he’s caused.

Bryan shakes his head, grinning, and buries one of his hands in Daniel’s still-damp hair, ruffling it. “Nothing, it was just the way you said it, like you were looking at something weird under a microscope.”

“You _are_ weird.”

“You’re the one doing the touchy-feely thing. We’ve only known each other a couple of months.”

“You don’t mind, do you?”

Looking down at those fingers, still stroking along the waistband of his jogging bottoms, Bryan shakes his head. Reaching out, he takes hold of the glasses that are still adorning Daniel’s face and pulls them off slowly, laying them down carefully on the end of their bed.

“That’s better,” he says quietly. “Now it’s you, for real.”

He sits back down and, without stopping to really think about it, reaches out to curl a hand around the back of Daniel’s neck, pulling him forwards and into a soft, warm kiss on the lips. Daniel doesn’t resist; doesn’t even flinch at the sudden movement, and when they pull apart his expression is calm and simply curious. He raises an eyebrow and Bryan feels embarrassed suddenly.

“Sorry, mate,” he says, eyes dropping briefly before flicking back up. “Just...had the urge, you know?”

Daniel’s other eyebrow follows the first, a notch between them showing his confusion.

“Why?”

“Because I _like_ you, Dan. Why else would I?”

“You can roll your eyes all you want, mate, but I’ve never had a bloke drag me into a kiss before. Don’t get dragged into that many kisses at all, actually.”

“Yeah, right. You’re probably just too drunk to remember, most of the time, knowing you.”

Daniel tips his head at the possibility of that, then looks at Bryan with that same confused glance. “Still. I didn’t know you liked men?”

Shrugging slightly, Bryan leans down and picks up the bottle, taking a swig before passing it over. “I like both. Probably should’ve guessed from the fact that I started dancing at the age of five.”

Daniel takes his own mouthful of the whiskey before setting it back down, missing the split second that Bryan’s eyes drop to his throat as he swallows. “So,” he says, sitting back up straight, “are you assuming that I like blokes too, then?”

There’s no malice in the question, only curiosity, and Bryan smiles wryly at him. “Not assuming anything, mate. Too many possibilities.”

“Such as?”

“Well, you could be unfailingly straight, or straight until you’ve had a few drinks, or you could be curious, or bisexual, or gay, or asexual, or -”

“Alright, alright,” Daniel holds up a hand, grinning at the way Bryan ticks them off on his fingers. “Let me put an end to that. I’m curious, I suppose.” He looks down at the floor for a moment, smile fading as he plays with his fingers. “One of the reasons I gave up on the religion, actually. Not that I’ve ever actually done anything, ‘til now. Worst thing was that I believed it all, to begin with.”

“You didn’t mention that in your show,” Bryan mentions, watching him intently.

“It’s not really something I think about much, to be honest,” Daniel admits. “I don’t tend to be attracted to that many lads, and girls are easier, parents-wise and appearances-wise and all the rest of that crap, and I’m a lazy sod, when it comes down to it.”

Bryan reaches for the bottle again. “If I’d’ve done this seven years ago, I expect you would’ve punched me, then.”

Daniel cocks his head as he considers it. “I hope not. I would’ve condemned you to a fiery death, though, probably,” he says lightly, leaning back and regarding Bryan with curiosity. “Then again, I was an impressionable youth, and you’re very pretty.”

Bryan smirks at that. “Don’t think you would’ve said that if you’d seen me prancing about the stage.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Ballet dancers wear those tights, don’t they? Very...revealing.”

Daniel’s eyes drop down Bryan’s body in an entirely unsubtle way, and Bryan grins.

“I’m glad you saw the light, Dan. The real light.”

“The foibles of youth, eh?” Daniel remarks with a sigh, accepting the bottle off him with a nod of thanks and downing another swallow. “If only they could see what I get up to now.”

“Like kissing strange men in hotel rooms.”

“You’re not a strange man, Bry. You’re my Ernie.”

“I hope they’re not turning in their graves as we speak.”

Daniel grins as he glances over at where the ubiquitous glasses lie benignly on the end of the bed. “Who’s to say they didn’t engage in a bit of experimentation now and then?”

“I suppose you’re right. You never know what people get up to behind closed doors, do you?”

The meaningful tone brings Daniel’s head back around and he tilts his head thoughtfully at the small smile he sees at the corner of Bryan’s lips.

“You won’t mind if I kiss you back, then?”

“Thought you’d never ask. Oh, and thanks for not hitting me, by the way.”

Daniel glances at him as he shuffles his chair closer. “Hope you’re not speaking from experience.”

Bryan’s rueful smile says it all. “I like a gamble.”

“Paid off, this time,” Daniel reassures him, as their knees bump together. He reaches out and curls one hand around the side of Bryan’s head, thumb in front of his ear and fingers curved behind it, buried in his dark-blonde hair. They look at each other for a long moment, blue eyes on blue, and when Daniel speaks again their lips are only a whisper apart.

“Not such a bad idea after all, this double bed.”


End file.
